


Excursion

by Ayngelcat



Series: Constructifics [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, non sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are told by G1 cannon that after the Crystal City debacle and Omega Supreme's failure to reverse Megetron's robosmasher programming on the Constructicons, they took off and were pursued by him through the galaxy for a very long time. They had a lot of adventures in that time. </p><p>Here's one little incident, where in the face of Hook's seductive tendencies Scrapper has a small struggle to assert his 'leadership.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excursion

“Check that out!” Bonecrusher indicated to the tastefully painted mechs and femmes, all splendid specimens of their type, who adorned the advertisement on the screen for the ‘establishment’ on Kraliss.

“Delight Escorts” promised a time of ‘entertainment, fun and relaxation’ to all those visiting the outpost world. Whilst the subject of how that might be achieved was tactfully avoided at this early stage, the suggestive postures and demure stares of its attractions were a stark reminder that it really had been a very long time since any of the Constructions had had had a decent interface outside the team – or some real R and R.

“I like _her_ …” Long Haul sounded more enthused than he had for a very long time as he regarded the yellow and orange grounder. “Always did like those colours – and I’ll bet she moves real nice in all kinds of situations.”

“Yeah,” Bonecrusher agreed. “I’m one for femmes myself. Though there’s plenty more on offer…” his gaze roved eagerly over the assortment, whilst beside him Scavenger’s intakes rasped excitedly, his attention firmly on a range of young mechs in military garb. They looked as though they’d just stepped out from an edition of _Gleam,_ the famous blog for especially attractive celebrities back on Cybertron.

“H-hey g-g-g-guys! I kinda like this myself,” Mixmaster gesticulated at the page open on his own console. Exotic looking alien creatures with tentacles, horns and various types of armour, beckoned enticingly.

The others crowded happily around the mixer. “Hey, now you’re talking!” Bonecrusher’s optics lit up, as Scavenger and Long Haul voiced their approval. “I think we need to use a few of these new gestalt-type persuasive tactics on Scrapper. How long d’you reckon we can get down there?”

“Depends,” Scavenger giggled. “How good the ‘tactics’ are!” And they all broke into raucous laughter.

“What is going on here?” So preoccupied had the Constructicons been that they had not heard the door open, or see Scrapper’s form appear in the doorway. The leader looked less than amused. Beside him, Hook folded his arms, the expression blank beneath the red visor.

The other mechs made an effort to move in front of the consoles, but not before the leaders' gazes had fallen on the screens. Scrapper frowned. Meanwhile, on Hook's face a knowing smile appeared.

Bonecrusher shot the crane a ‘help us here’ look of his own before addressing the masked Constructicon leader. “I’d like to make a suggestion,” he said, meeting the leader’s gaze but trying to remain ‘cordial’ – as this always had a better effect. “We’re approaching the Sentriss system, and there’s a couple of worlds that orbit the main star. One of them, Kraliss, is known for its beauty, its diversity, its rich culture, its…”

“Yes I know of it,” Scrapper snapped. “And I’m well aware of its attractions.” His optic ridges knitted. “But I’m afraid that’s out of the question. We’ve far too busy a schedule to keep.”

He regarded them all reproachfully. “Have you forgotten entirely, Constructicons, that we are due back in the Delta quadrant in five Cybertronian cycles to start work on the Pavonian palace?”

Mumbles of dismay and protestations arose. All four Constructicons looked at Hook, but the crane merely shrugged.

“Have you forgotten our situation?” Scrapper went on, in a tone that made Bonecrusher’s ‘tactics’ look depressingly less likely to succeed. “We’re not on Cybertron any more, and there’s no guaranteed income from Megatron or anybody else. If we don’t have the resources to keep inter-sector shift as an option, we could be caught by Omega Supreme.” His optics flared momentarily. “You all know what that means. We need to keep moving – and we need our contracts.”

More noises of discontent and sullen expressions greeted him – even thought they all indeed knew well what Omega would do. “But Scrapper –“ Scavenger protested. We haven’t had a proper holiday since – our conversion.” The others agreed emphatically. “Exercises our relays to ‘face outta the team," Long Haul pointed out.

“That’s not to the point,” Scrapper said. “This, unfortunately, is what evading enemies is about. Besides which, I have not forgotten the time we visited Monacus. He frowned. “Bonecrusher - you got yourself arrested. Mixmaster - it took us three cycles to even _find_ you. And as for you, Scavenger…” the excavator looked away, “only you could manage to get yourself sold to …” he pointed over to the console. “To one of those type places.”

“Well we didn’t know the Combaticons were gonna be there, did we?” Bonecrusher growled. “They were kinda like a bad influence. But we know one thing for a fact – they ain’t on Kraliss.”

“Besides which, this is a nice type place,” Long Haul pointed out. “Classy – like. They wouldn’t accept a sale from a mech like Swindle. Not that Scavenger ain’t got class of his own,” he added hastily in response to the excavator’s sudden pouty expression.

Scrapper could feel as usual them wearing him down. It was true, they could do with a break, and also that the Combaticons were, indeed, nowhere in the vicinity. As Scrapper knew well form his meeting with Onslaught at Junction Seventeen they were on the run too, in another sector by now - with problems of their own.

But no – the Constructicons could not afford to risk losing that contract. Besides which, was he, Scrapper, not their leader? It was essential, if they were to survive, that he retained their respect in this capacity.

“I’m sorry,” he said curtly to their dismayed and then belligerent faces. “But I can’t…”

“Scrapper…” He felt a light touch on his arm. “A word if you please …”

Scrapper felt a sharp twinge in his spark, so sudden and intense as to almost make him change his mind. _Darn you Hook_ \- _you’re not talking me into this either,_ he thought furiously. Nevertheless, he allowed Devastator’s head component to loop an arm around his shoulders and steer him outside.

It was perhaps fortunate he didn’t see the sly wink the crane directed at Bonecrusher, or the sudden hopeful expressions of the others. The door hissed shut behind them.

 

“Hook – this is important...there's no way...” Scrapper began; but he got no further. His mask was removed hastily, and Hook’s mouth closed over his, the crane’s body radiating warmth and charge as Scrapper was pressed against the wall. “Hook…” he tried to break away, but the pressure only increased, the soft clash and scrape of mech-metal filling the air.

Scrapper resisted some more - then gave in, telling himself firmly that this was because that was what would make Hook let go, and not for any other reason, fighting off the reality that it felt _just so damnably nice,_ and that Hook's glossa gently caressing his lip components had filled him with all kinds of very unleaderly desires and longings.

As predicted, Hook released Scrapper, placing a finger over his mouth. “No talking…” Hook said. And then, when Scrapper obliged him with silence: “Now – what were you saying the other day about group interfacing?”

Scrapper was pretty sure he knew what was coming. In any case, he knew he was weakening. As he thought back to the post group session brief, he struggled to hold together his resolve, the need to put logic and the survival of the Constructicons first. “I believe I agreed with you that it promoted excellent functioning, was enjoyable, and removed the need for any of us to do anything with anyone beside the team,” he said matter of factly.

“Enjoyable it was indeed,” Hook agreed. A familiar crooked smile appeared as his optics looked straight into Scrapper’s. “But what did you say after that, Scrapper?”

“I don’t recall.”

Although he did – darn it, he _did_. And he knew why he’d said it too. The effect the crane was having on him now was a fine reminder of that. “I suggest you give your memory circuits a tweak,” Hook teased. “Or would you like me to?”

“No...”

Hook’s hand was moving on his chest, sliding over the panels with the skill of one who knows exactly where to touch and in just the right way to achieve the desired result. Scrapper’s spark pulsed heavily. _Darn it_ – why did Hook have to have this effect?

But he always had, hadn’t he? It was why, long before Megatron - or the robosmasher, or the conversion, or the gestalt - Scrapper had been so keen to draft him into their team. “All right – “ he muttered. “I said it would be …” the leader swallowed. “I said it would be even nicer if we could have some alone time and..” (of course Hook would have to get that _look_ when he said that – the one that made Scrapper melt inside) “…a chance to connect without the others.”

“And now we have it!” Hook was triumphant. “All you have to do is say ‘yes’ to them going to Kraliss.”

Scrapper had meant what he said. How wonderful would it be for there to be just the two of them on this ship for once without demands, whinings, complaints, squabbles or any of the other side effects of them and four other mechs cooped up in too small a spacecraft in the middle of nowhere? But desire warred strongly with duty, the duty that Scrapper had, as Constructicon leader, responsibilities - the very reason he had denied the others earlier. “It’s not a question of want, it’s a question of survival,” Scrapper said. “I can’t. Whatever else I might…" he swallowed. He was actually admitting it.  "Whatever I might otherwise want.”

But Hook was not giving up. Especially not now - after that. His intakes hissed audibly, his visor flaring brightly as he put his hands on Scrapper's shoulders. “Look, Scrapper - all you have to do is let them down there for a couple of cycles…” 

"No, Hook, I can't."

Hook's gaze intensified. “They won’t get into trouble - I can promise you that. Kraliss is proud of its independence – everything’s controlled to the last microcircuit. Heck - if it was for any other purpose our fellow gestalt team probably wouldn’t even get in – but the Kraleans like credits too.”

“Hook, the credits are partly my point. We can’t _afford_ to let them down there. If we squander what we have now, we'll be sunk - not to mention what will happen if we don’t make it to Pavonus on time. We’ll be stuck in these nether regions and then you know what could happen to us. We can’t expect a rescue from Blast Off this time.”

Hook's face took on a softer, almost dejected expression. The optics behind the visor seemed to plead, and Scrapper's spark ached suddenly. Hook could be manipulative, Scrapper was hardly unaware of that - even if he could not always resist it.  But Scrapper knew - could _feel_ \- that this time the crane genuinely wanted this. And _that_ was what was making it it so extremely _hard_ this time.

Their intakes hissed in the silence. Scrapper avoided Hook's gaze, despairing. If only Hook could see, resist his urges for once and support Scrapper to make him strong in this – instead of making them both give in. What good would any of it be of they both ended up in Oblivion?

But Hook was up close to him again, the heat from the crane’s body sending Scrapper’s circuits into a miasma of desire and hopeless submission as his shoulders were lightly stroked, a soft kiss planted on the front of his helm.  “They saved up their allowances,” Hook murmured gently. “They won't need to invade our general credit supply. And don’t worry about the Pavonians. I’ve studied Blast Off’s route maps and we can take a couple of short cuts. The situation’s under control.”

Slender fingers stroked Scrapper’s cheek, sending tingles zinging down his neck cords and making his chest pulse again. His intakes hitched as his spark flared hard.  “Trust me Scrapper," Hook whispered. "It'll be OK. And we both need this.”

The last of Scrapper’s resistance melted away, the practicalities and necessities diminishing into a foggy haze. Scrapper did not resist as Hook drew him close and kissed him deeply. //That’s more like it,// Hook murmured as their EM fields activated,  swirling and mingling. //You need expert care and de-stressing, Scrapper. That is just as essential to our continued existence as any of the other things you mentioned.//

Yes, he was right. Hook was definitely right.

So intense was the moment, that Scrapper nearly fell into full pre-interface immersion right there outside the rec room. But he became aware, then, of the door opening, and of the very definite presence of the rest of the team. There was no mistaking the now hopeful mood. _They know,_ Scrapper thought. Was it not possible to keep anything from this new gestalt?

“Do we take it the Constructicon leadership has reached a verdict?” Bonecrusher’s optics glinted with amusement as Hook detached himself and the other Constructicons looked from one leader to the other.

“Yes,” Scrapper said. “I have taken Hooks counsel and I have decided that…”

 _“We_ have decided,” Hook said, “that you can go to Kraliss for two cycles only. But if anyone isn’t back here after that, we leave without you.”

A cheer went up, accompanied by whistles and “good job, Hook … Scrapper you’re the best ….”

“There’s plenty you can do in two cycles,” Scavenger giggled. “Yeah – up here and d-d-down there” Mixmaster agreed as their laughter filled the air.

The decision was made, but there was no need for the situation to be forgotten. De-activating his EM field and re-settling his thrumming circuits, Scrapper grabbed his mask and re-attached it. He addressed them. “Thank you, Constructicons,” he said.  “Now – I suggest you prepare the landing craft as you will need this to get to the surface of Kraliss, will you not? In the meantime, Hook and I must discuss logictics.”

Scrapper gave them a dismissive nod. Then grabbing the crane’s wrist, he made sure it was he who hauled Hook firmly away this time.

He missed the grins and 'thumbs ups' that Hook and the other Constructicons gave each other.


End file.
